


Mama's Day

by wirewhite (cascadewaters)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:46:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascadewaters/pseuds/wirewhite
Summary: A young wolf learns a lesson about his mom.  OCs, set pre-series in a private fic sandbox.  Contains disciplinary spanking of a teenager.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [always_angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_angel/gifts).



She sounded calm, but he could hear her heart still pounding as she herded him into the house; she waited until they were alone inside (thank God for day camps for little kids) before quietly asking him to explain himself. He tried, but what could he really say? That pink-ribboned baton had been stuck up there since the neighbor’s two kids had fought the other day, and the teenage daughter had thrown it because she was mad at her little sister. Lucas could see the toy from his window, and bullies annoyed him on principle, so he’d ignored—disobeyed—Jess’s admonitions to stay out of that tree. It wasn’t a particularly high or challenging tree, but the foliage was thick, and by the time he’d realized how close he was to the power line (he should have heard it, so that was another thing,) he’d had the metal baton shaft in his hands, and he’d found himself flying backward.

Now she made him sit still on the vintage barstool in the bathroom and keep talking as she tended the slowly-healing burns on his hands, and then as she sheared off his singed hair, giving him what turned out to be a pretty decent buzz cut. He finished talking during the barbering, and she kept silent as she worked, leaving him to face not just the reality of how many lines he’d crossed with his behavior, but also not knowing what to expect from this normally jovial woman.

“Lucas Michael.”

He winced. Unlike Geordi, Jess rarely used middle names, and her quiet tone worried him. He slowly turned on the stool to face her. “Yes?”

“Did you believe that your behavior would be acceptable?” 

Oh. Ouch. He could say yes, and as a human, she wouldn’t be able to hear his heart rate and say that he was lying. She might even just lecture him and let it go at that; he knew that she much preferred not to punish ignorant mistakes. It was one of the things he liked best about her.

Lucas sighed. “No, ma’am. I just… I thought you were being silly. And commanding.” He squirmed a bit as he confessed. 

“Ah. And because you’re not used to seeing me using any authority, and you don’t feel that I really have any, you decided that you couldn’t be expected to take me seriously.”

“What?! No! I-I mean…” He shook his head in denial, having a hard time figuring out how to assure her that she was wrong, he didn’t think so little of her place in the household!  
…except that he couldn’t swear to that, much as he wanted to. 

And, somehow, she could see it in his face, or his eyes, or something.

And he could see the hurt, and something else, in hers. His heart sank; he might not think of her as an authority figure, but he did love her, and he loved that she wanted to be his mother. He started to say, “Mama,” but she put up a hand to silence him. She clearly didn’t want to hear it.

“You will go to your room and wait for me.” She watched him leave the bathroom.

Lucas didn’t think that he was going to be kicked out, but as he stood in the space that Mama had given up for him, and then spent time and effort making good for him, he worried that she might not want to be his mama now; and somehow, that felt as bad as hearing how easily his first mom had given him up. He stared at the bridge mural Jess had planned and painted on his wall, and he struggled not to cry.

Jess came in, without knocking, after about five minutes; she perched on the end of his bed, put one foot up on his daddy’s USMC footlocker, and said, “Come here, young man.” Her tone was hard, and her quiet voice didn’t need any extra volume; even a total moron would be worried. He opened his mouth (to say what, really?) but she held up her hand again. “I’ll tell you when I want you to speak. Now come here; you do not want me to come and get you.”

Lucas gulped and shuffled over, feeling like such a little kid. 

“Bare your bottom.” She saw him flinch at that, and she huffed impatiently. “Not a suggestion.”

He sucked in a breath and obeyed, reminding himself that she’d been dealing with boys for most of his life, so it was no big deal. She didn’t waste any time in getting him bent over her raised thigh. “Now tell me why you’re over my knee, young man.” As he opened his mouth, something smacked down on his backside with a loud crack that heralded a louder sting. He bucked in surprise; that first spanking with her hand had been more sadness than sting for him, but it had stung some—and this was *not* her hand!

“Wha-what’re you-“ He tried to twist around to see what she was using, but she was stronger than she looked, and he wasn’t at a very defensible angle. 

“I’m waiting for an answer, Lucas Michael.” Her ‘whatever’ smacked down three times in the same spot in rapid succession, and he whined.

“’Cause I-I…” He puffed out a breath, trying to maintain control and to think, both of which were becoming challenging already. What Jess lacked in brute strength, she made up for in technique: he recalled how her small hand had moved rapidly last time, using speed and unpredictability to build sting over his clothes. The pain itself hadn’t held a candle to what Papa would’ve dealt, but Lucas had felt an uncomfortable, tenderizing warmth for a few minutes.

This… this was very different. Whatever she was using was solid and hard, and it just kept coming, fast and loud and sharp. Lucas had to be careful about how he bucked and wriggled, for fear of hurting her, which added another layer of complicated to the situation. And she still expected him to talk.

“Why are you over my knee?”

He managed to say that he was there because he’d underestimated her. He swore at one smack to his undercurve, and Jess paused for a couple of seconds, then landed two searing smacks to the back of each thigh. “I don’t tolerate profanity.” She moved back to his backside and said, “You’re not in trouble for thoughts, but for actions. What did you do wrong?”

Lucas tried to think, wanting to give the right answer so that this would stop. “I-um-ahh!-I went up in the t-tree? Wanted to help!”

“Yes,” she said, still swatting, “and why was it wrong to go up in the tree?”

That took more concentration. “You… not to. You said not to!” The triumph of a complete sentence rode in on pants and gasps, punctuated by a whine. 

“And why do you imagine I said no?”

“Bec-becauAHHHH! P-power l-l-line?”

“Yes, the power line—the one I knew about, and you did not. I was trying to keep you from getting shocked, and what ended up happening?”

“Sh-shocked.” Boy, had he ever.

“That’s right. I may be just a woman, just a human, just a mom, but I am not stupid, and I do not talk just to hear myself or to throw my weight around. You don’t have to think or feel anything about me, but you *will* treat me with respect and obey me, or you *will* find yourself back here, every time. Do you understand me?”

His backside hurt so much, and his heart and gut hurt so much more! Lucas had been in tears since he’d cussed, and sobbing quietly for nearly as long; he nodded miserably, hoping that it was enough, but at another smack to his thigh, he whimpered and managed a ragged, “Yes, m-ma’aaaaam!”

“Alright, then,” she said quietly, swatted his sit spots a few more times, then stopped and rested one hand on his back. He sobbed hard for another couple of minutes.   
When he finally realized that she was done, and he started to calm, he tried to say, “Sorry, Mama,” but she shushed him. She gave his back an unexpected gentle pat. “Fix your clothes,” she said as she helped him stand.

Lucas whined almost silently, and broke back down into fresh sobs as he obeyed. He had trouble making his fingers work, and he couldn’t see through his tears. Papa always did the clothes part for him; if she was so disgusted that she didn’t want to touch him even after punishing him, and she wouldn’t even let…

And then her arms were around him from behind. “What is it, baby?” she asked, concerned, and Lucas totally fell apart. When he’d finally managed to blubber and stutter out that she’d made him fix his own pants and had stopped him every time he’d tried to call her Mama, she turned him around and held his jaw in her hands, using her thumbs to wipe away some tears. “Now you listen to me, little boy,” she said in a gentle but firm tone. “Are you listening?” He nodded. “Good boy. I owe you an apology. I wasn’t trying to keep you from calling me Mama. I will never not be your mama. I claimed you, you’re mine, and that’s it. You’re stuck with me, Lucas Michael, and while you might regret it, I never will. I just needed you to understand that you were not in charge, I was. And I didn’t fix your clothes because I figured you’d want that bit of dignity back after this part of your punishment.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “Mine,” she said.

Lucas melted into her arms, sniffling and hiccupping as his body rid itself of more tears and tension. Mama whispered about how she loved him and he was her good boy and how those things would never change. When Lucas had been calm for a few minutes, Mama pulled back to look at him.

“Yes, I said ‘part of your punishment.’ Dangerous behavior gets your bottom tanned *and* grounded. In this case, that means no tv, no phone privileges, and no computer use for two weeks, and you’ll be spending eight hours a day with me every Saturday and Sunday for the next month, helping me with whatever chores I find. Papa or I will decide on any opportunities to go out. Am I clear?”

Lucas sniffled and rubbed at his itchy face. “Yes, ma’am,” he said hoarsely.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call me?”

“It is when you have that… thing… of death anywhere near my butt.” 

She snorted. “It’s a spoon, dear child. Now, what do you say to me?”

Lucas winced, but took a risk. “Yes… Mama?”

“That’s better.” Jess kissed his forehead, then eyed him appraisingly. She examined his hands, then stepped back. “Go wash your face and hands, and meet me in the kitchen.”

Lucas obeyed, and Jess taught him how to make slow-cooker nachos. Then she declared that he was going to nap, and Lucas wasn’t dumb enough to argue that was too old. Honestly, he might not sleep, but quiet time didn’t seem so much patronizing as sensible, and Lucas liked sensible.

He didn’t bother trying to hide his weariness as Mama guided him through cleaning up the kitchen, then washing his hands, then returning to his room. She tucked him in, just as if he were one of the littles, right down to kissing his nose… and a few minutes later, she returned from some other chore and climbed in with him, letting him snuggle down with her arm. 

When he woke, it was to Mama gone, and Papa sitting over him, stroking his now-fuzzy head. “Were you resting with Mama?” Papa asked tenderly, with a soft smile. Lucas blinked, nodded, stretched… and remembered. He got his back to pop a little as he thought about how his butt still felt like a bad sunburn, but he didn’t show any of that on his face. He didn’t want Papa to find out and be mad at him, too.

Papa gently stroked Lucas’s hair for another couple of minutes in the quiet, then said, “Let me see your hands.”

Well, so much for Papa not knowing.

Lucas whimpered, but obeyed, sad and worried that Papa would be disappointed in him, and might punish him more. Papa carefully examined the healed burns, and Lucas watched as the scars faded and vanished much faster than he’d expected, given his usual rate of healing. Papa saw his surprise. “Do you know that you’re loved, bambino? Do you feel it?” Lucas knew that if he didn’t feel loved, it was safe to be honest about that; but, because he did feel it, he nodded. “That is the fastest way to heal one of our kind. It can still take time, and there are some wounds that even we cannot survive, but love is the great remedy, the oldest magic, the warmth in the breath of God.”

Lucas eyed his new papa with awe, then with worry. “Are you mad at me? Am I in trouble again?”

“Not this time, little one. Your mama is perfectly capable of making her own point, yes?” The boy nodded emphatically, and his papa smiled knowingly, then leaned down and kissed Lucas’s forehead. 

The rest of the evening passed smoothly enough for a busy household with any number of kids and other packmates in and out of the house. Lucas got a lot of compliments on the haircut, but since he was a guy, most people didn’t ask why he’d suddenly decided on a buzz cut, and his parents didn’t make him explain how it had come about. Lucas and Jess traded smiles and winks about it once. His bottom was sore and his head was cold, but his heart was more comfortable than it had been in a very long time.


End file.
